


the eyes that make forests weep

by deltachye



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gift Fic, Other, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 18:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15540849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x dean winchester]He seemed forever, but some tides don't come back.[to coral; dw’18]





	the eyes that make forests weep

You really didn’t think that you’d have to say goodbye so soon.

“Dean, Dean—c’mon, you idiot, say something to me—”

Everybody’s frantic and occupied; Sam’s off somewhere, there’s screaming and howling and yelling and cursing, and there’s gunshots. It must be Sam, and the situation is still dire, but all you can think of is how the echoing of firearms sounds just like the roll of fireworks. But there is nothing beautiful or celebratory to see right now. Dean’s dying.

He coughs and bubbles of scarlet blood splatter from his lips. He shouldn’t have gone down from such an easy enemy—fuck, Dean’s the strongest asshole you know—but because _you_ were here, he took a hit. You can hardly think from your panic and guilt. If only you hadn’t been here, if only you were stronger, if only, if only… No matter how deep you press your hands into his chest he seems to be bleeding more every second. There is so much blood and it’s all his. The smell of rust permeates the air cloyingly, and even though his blood is hot on your hands you feel so hopelessly cold.

“Dean,” you plead, over and over in a stupid mantra as if that can bring him back. “Dean Winchester, _please_.”

“S-sorry,” he chokes out, and the word clearly takes all of his effort. He’s trembling in your arms and one hand is weakly clutching at your elbow, as if it’s his only anchor to life right now. “Sorry that I… couldn’t take you out… for one last drink, y’know?”

Even now he’s trying to be ‘cool’—he’s stupid, he’s trying, he’s scared, and it’s because he’s given up. You don’t believe it. You can’t, even though his guts are in the palm of your hands and you’re sobbing and he’s got little-to-no light left in his endlessly green eyes that make emerald forests jealous. Dean’s the type of guy that seems forever. He’s never around, always a shadow, and when he comes back it’s like a tide. It comes in to remind you that it’s back and when it goes out, all you have is faith that it’ll come back. But now the tide is ebbing away, rushing fast out of your grasp, and all you want is to feel the cool water on your toes again.

“Don’t say that,” you gasp angrily. “You, me, and Sammy; we’re all gonna be fine, right? So c’mon, just keep your eyes open, do it for me—”

“It’s all for you,” he whispers, so lightly that you almost miss it and have to read his lips. He looks beautiful, even pale and haggard, and you desperately hike him up your leg to your chest.

“Please don’t go,” you beg in a whimper, abandoning hope of him being able to spring up with that crooked smirk and _haha, got you!_ attitude. You just want him to live. “I _need_ you here.”

“I… I won’t…”

The words trail off into silence. At first you want to scream: _what_? He won’t _what_ , but you know immediately. You know as soon as the stone sinks in your stomach with the realization that Dean Winchester, forever, is dead in your arms. 

_I won’t ever stop loving you_. And God, now you wish you could forget about him, because no matter where you go you miss the tide.


End file.
